Radiant Doom
by mrnovember09
Summary: Seven years after Radiant Dawn, Tellius licks its wounds and plays at peace. A threat grows from within and quickly infects the nations with discontent and rebellion. Allies become enemies, no one is safe from death, and Tellius must face a its most horrific war yet, all without its hero, Ike, lost somewhere in the desert.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The morning dawned and cast its light through the window of the former Apostle's bedchambers, the beams reflecting through the stained glass image at the front of her bed. Begnion was rubbing the sleep from its eyes and awakening to another day of political machinations, lying, betraying, living, and dying.

Sigrun sat at the end of the Empress' large bed, watching the young woman as she slept, her hair lifting slightly with every sleeping breath. Sanaki, the little girl who had led her people through two wars, had grown into a woman attempting to become capable of uniting a people even without the authority of the goddess. It had been seven years since the war with Ashera, and nine years since the Mad King's War. These seven long years had drifted past without full scale war; seven slow, godless years of rebuilding and political maneuverings at the hands of the new rulers of Tellius. Elincia still ruled Crimea, now with King Geoffrey at her side, and the nation was thriving as it had not in decades. Rumors still swirled of unruly bands of brigands looting around the outskirts of the nation, but such things couldn't be helped. Sigrun had heard that the Lady Lucia and the silver-tongued Bastion were also wedded, and that the former Greil mercenary Oscar had returned to Crimea's knights as a commander. Gallia, under the reign of King Skrimir, had retreated to licking its wounds and had not issued any significant contact with the outside world, other than to sign a few treaties binding it to amiable relations with the rest of the war-weary continent. She had not heard from the beast members of the former liberation army.

Built among the restored forest of Serenes, the new bird kingdom grew constantly, feeding on the ever growing migration of birds from across the continent as they slowly made the decision to unite as one. King Tibarn sent his chief diplomat, the former king of Kilvas, across Tellius to every nation, forming alliances and forging friendships. He was scheduled to arrive in Begnion in just a few days, Sigrun remembered. Daein, while not in bad shape by any means, struggled more than the other nations. Rebels still committed the occasional murder despite Queen Micaiah and King Sothe's fervent efforts to stem the tide of unrest. Pelleas, once paraded as the lost son of King Ashnard, was revealed as a fake, and yet served the queen along with the great general Tauroneo on her small council. Tellius was slowly, uneasily, yet surely preparing for those legendary thousand years of peace and plenty. No one wanted another war, especially not after suffering from two in less than three years.

Today would mark yet another day of Sanaki's training in the difficult art of riding pegasi. Sigrun had protested, pointing out the dangers in an untrained rider taking flight, but the stubborn young leader continued in her efforts.

"A leader must be seen by her people, and what better way than to fly over everything on a Pegasus?" she had said when Sigrun had expressed her misgivings.

"I understand what you're saying, but you have to understand the risk involved. We can't afford to lose you to an accident. Pegasi are unpredictable until they've been properly broken in."

Sigrun's attempts to guard her empress against the dangers of flight fell on deaf ears, and eventually she gave up. She knew the young woman too well to truly expect her to back down from such a challenge merely because it was dangerous. Begnion's welfare and its people were always first in her mind, always put above everything else in Sanaki's life. Sigrun wondered if some nights she longed for a lover; she had once asked Sigrun pointedly if she was pretty. Of course, her faithful knight had told her she was, and meant it too, but that had not seemed to assuage her.

Lost in her thoughts, Sigrun almost failed to see the young empress awaken. "Good morning, Sigrun. Can we ride today?"

Sigrun saw the towering marble buildings of Sienne, a sight made no less glorious by its ever increasing frequency. The delight on Sanaki's face gave the entire experience a new aura, a memory akin to teaching a lesson to one's own child. Sigrun knew she was wedded to duty and would most likely not take a husband. So this girl, no, this woman, would be her child, her daughter, to raise and protect.

"Look, Sigrun, I think I've gotten a good grasp on flight," Sanaki said, snapping the reins and causing the Pegasus to alight a few feet higher.

Impressed, Sigrun laughed as the Empress' Pegasus whinnied with glee.

"Good job, Sanaki! Just be careful…"

Within half an hour the two had flew over a nearby forest. They circled lower to get a glimpse at animal life from the vantage point of the sky. Sigrun had insisted that the animals were too far away for Beorc eyes, but again Sanaki would not be dissuaded. With a flick of the reins, Sanaki's mount took her closer to the tops of the trees, in front of a small clearing.

"See, I was right, there's nothing wrong with –"

Sanaki's retort turned into a shriek as her Pegasus plummeted downward, an arrow through its neck. Her knight's instincts activating, Sigrun forced her mount down in an attempt to fly underneath the empress and somehow rescue her from whoever was shooting at them. Mere seconds later, a blur flew from the corner of Sigrun's vision and impaled her own Pegasus in the chest, sending her falling as well. No longer able to assist her empress, she held tightly to her dying companion, the wind whipping her hair across her face and bringing tears to her eyes. She prayed; to whom, she had no idea, but she prayed all the same. For her life, for Sanaki's life. She would not fail this girl, this nation. The ground rushed up to meet her. Pain like none she had ever experienced forced its way through her body moments after the sickening crack and thud of her fallen mount. She screamed, grunting as she put a hand to her chest, where several bones were most likely broken. She turned around, still lying on the ground, and began to drag herself forward.

"No…no no no no..no no no" she whimpered. Sanaki's body lay crumpled, entwined in the corpse of her Pegasus. Her arms were bent ways that no living person could manage, and her head was covered in blood.

Another whisper in the forest and Sigrun fell back, an arrow poking through her breast. She spat blood, and tried to push herself up with her elbow. Branches snapped, grass parted, and the archer emerged from the bushes. Silently, she heard the bow stretch taut. Another arrow thudded into her, and she fell. Vision swimming with shadows and blood, she looked up at her killer as the bow tightened again. Red hair. The arrow flew, faster than her thoughts.


	2. Micaiah I

Radiant Doom

Chapter One

_Two bleeding stars fell from the bright skies and landed in a dense forest…_

_A shadow leapt from the earth and flew upwards, arching towards the black tower…_

_A severed head bounced on stone, trailing drops of red against the black..._

She still had the visions. Not often, sometimes not for months, but inevitably they would come, sure as the falling of the leaves. Sometimes she guessed their meaning or saw them realized; others lurked in the corners of her mind, dripping fear and doubt in to the depths of her worrying soul. She tried her best to forget them. That was safer. That was easier.

Micaiah had never quite managed to learn just how Sothe could enter or leave a room completely unnoticed, as if he melted his body into smoke and floated his vapors through the cracks in the windows. She sat on her bed and leafed through her latest spellbook, willing her mind to remember the mythic words and arcane patterns. The time for destructive spells was over, she hoped, so she spent her little free time learning new ways of healing the body and even the mind, ways of sending energy of pure light through the veins and restoring the damage wrought by time and illness. She had tried to do the same to her own country. Daein had been through so much in the past nine years; King Ashnard's mad war for power, the brutal occupation of Begnion and her own Dawn Brigade's rebellion, as well as the war against the Goddess fought alongside her once sworn enemy, Ike, the Hero of Blue Flames. She had gone from gutter rat to queen in just a short while, and now she had the responsibilities of an entire recovering nation on her shoulders, the fate of Daein precariously perched on her own limited abilities. Sometimes the stress wracked her more than the perils of battle, even more than the terrifying sight of Ashera.

Sothe sat beside her and wound his hands through the knots in her back. She continued reading but closed her lids slightly as the soreness dissipated. For a few minutes peace and silence remained, until Sothe spoke, as he always had to.

"I'm sorry I have to do this…" he said, his face downcast. Micaiah shook her head.

"I know, I know, just tell me."

Sothe's hands stopped moving, as well as his mouth. Micaiah's stomach tightened.

"Just say it, Sothe. I can handle it."

Sothe sighed. "I've been listening. And hearing things. Not everyone is happy with you as queen…they…there's a growing number of people who say you're…you're…"

"Unfit to rule?" she said, turning around to him. She kept her voice calm, as befitting a queen unconcerned with the opinions of louts, but inside she felt a flutter of panic and sorrow. She had done her best, tried as hard as she could to reforge the broken pieces of Daein into something worth remembering, a place worth living in. During the rebellion, she thought of nothing but defeating Begnion, and then Ashera. Everything would fall into place afterwards; the hardest part would be over. She had no conception of the trials she would face after. Running a country was just so…damn difficult. No easy choices. Every day she went for a walk through the streets of Nevassa, flanked by two of her closest knights: the grizzled war veteran Sir Tauroneo, and her long-time friend Sir Edward. She would be greeted with the cheers and adulation of her people, outstretched hands and smiling faces imploring her to continue her good work as ruler of Daein. Those moments gave her the satisfaction of knowing that at least some people thought she had the potential to rule well. Few would argue that things were worse under Ashnard. However, she knew that they didn't represent the whole of her kingdom, not by a good amount. According to the rumors collected by Sothe's network of spies, there remained a decent collection of dissenters who had never accepted Micaiah's rule as totally legitimate. She had told him to keep an ear out for an increase in antagonism among the people. The last thing Daein needed now was another war.

Sothe winced. "Something about not taking the throne in the traditional way. Bloodshed and all."

"Bloodshed? Bloodshed?" Micaiah rose quickly and faced her lover, hands glowing slightly from an unintentional burst of magic. "What do they think I did to get the throne? How many lives I…we, ended. How many families we tore apart because they were wearing the wrong color armor, flying the wrong flag, born in the wrong place? How could I have caused more bloodshed?"

Sothe raised his hands in front of his face. "Don't yell at me, I'm just reporting. But don't say that. You know full well things could have been much worse. We did what we had to do. Daein is in a better place now, all of Tellius is." He grabbed her arms firmly, but kindly. He looked up at her.

"Thanks to you. You're our queen. Things will be fine. I promise."

"I…Sothe…" she slid back onto the bed and leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…you'd think after seven years…"

"I doesn't get easier," he whispered, running his hands through her hair. "I know, I know. I'm sorry…just keeping going, Micaiah, keep going."

They lay on the bed for a few precious moments, the few they got to spend every day, the few moments where the mask of queen and of spymaster could be set aside and hung on the wall. If only just for a brief time. They would need to be put back on, soon.

"What do I do about it?" she asked softly, not looking up at him.

"Prove them wrong. Not about the bloodshed. Make Daein better than it ever has been."

"Of course. Only that."

Sothe smiled, a bit sadly. "Only that. I believe you can manage that. We defeated a goddess, remember? We're on our own now, Beorc and Laguz. We have to show that we deserve to live here. To live at all."

He was right, she knew, as usual. The young boy had grown so quickly, learned so much. Now he was her bastion of strength, just as much as she was his.

Sothe kissed her on the top of her head and slowly lifted himself up. "I think it's time for the Queen to join her loyal retainers. I've got some work to take care of, unfortunately." He lifted her up and kissed her for a few seconds before vanishing into the dark.

Micaiah clenched and unclenched her fists, felt her resolve fortify. She could do this…she had to do this. She motioned towards her royal cloak, which flew towards her and wrapped itself in the correct shape in seconds. She wiped her face and knocked on the door.

"I'm ready."

"Of course, your majesty."

The door slid open to reveal the smiling face of Sir Edward, garbed in the long robes that befitted a swordmaster of Daein. She smiled sadly at him and he responded with a theatric bow. Every time she saw him she couldn't help feel another drop of sadness enter her. He had refused her initial request to join her and left for the life of a small town fighting instructor, destined to find some beautiful barmaid and spend the rest of his life in peace, balancing little brown-eyed children on his knee and passing his gray years in the beautiful countryside. She had ended those dreams three years ago, when the seeds of another uprising seemed ready to burst from the soil still wet with the blood of the dead. She commanded him to return, and Edward was nothing if not loyal. It had proved a trifling matter in the long run, but Edward had stayed, unwilling to leave his queen in such uncertain times. Now one of the Four Riders of Daein, he could never return to that life. All for Daein.

"Edward, is everyone waiting for me?"

"I'm afraid so, your majesty. Not long though, don't worry. Tauroneo's just showed up." He leaned in closer and pretended to whisper. "Getting old, I think. Can't move around in all that armor. Generals…" He laughed and whistled jovially, leading his friend and queen into the council chambers. Micaiah sighed. Not even being forced away from his dream could keep Edward's spirits from climbing. He may have been joking, but the queen still worried about Tauroneo. He was not yet too old to fight, but it wouldn't be much longer until he would be forced to retire. Then what? Warfare and service were all he'd ever known.

"Edward, I…"

He looked at her knowingly, as if he had already guessed the topic of her next sentence. Don't talk about what I did for you, it seemed to say.

"Never mind…" she trailed off, wringing her hands. "What are we talking about today? I'm afraid I don't quite remember."

Edward shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not the best person to ask that question." He patted his sword. "This is the only thing I feel qualified for here. A Rider of Daein. Never would have guessed that seven years ago."

"It's really been that long?"

"Yeah, I guess. Time never seems to go at the same speed as it did the year before, I think. Anyway, can I really be called a Rider if I don't know how to ride anything? It doesn't make sense to me…"

Micaiah laughed, glad for the change of subject. "It's an honorary title from hundreds of years back. It's not just you, look at Tauroneo! I've never seen a man less fit to ride a horse…except maybe Oliver…"

The two chuckled as they arrived at the grand hall. Two black-armored soldiers nodded their heads in acknowledgement and opened the large door. The room was made of polished black stone and wood, a rectangular-shaped hall with a wide curved ceiling and ancient stain-glass windows depicting the Daein kings of old atop black wyverns. She had tried her best to inject some hopefulness or regal optimism into the bleak and oppressive room, but the few maroon banners couldn't destroy the aura of power and violence that had sunk deep into the roots of the castle like stained blood.

At her entrance, the few nobles seated at the large center table stood up and held their arms across their chest, their right hands curled into fists, in the signature salute. She bade them to sit and took her place at the head of the table. Edward stood behind her, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his blade. He scanned the room for any potential threats, and seeing none, took the seat to her right. To the right of Edward sat Sir Warrick, one of the four Riders of Daein. He was a dour young paladin with a full black beard and vibrant green eyes. Alone among the four riders, he actually rode a mount and was considered one of the finest paladins in the nation, even given his penchant for self-deprecation and pessimism. To his right sat Lady Jill Fizzart, Duchess of Talrega, much to Micaiah's surprise. She hadn't seen the former soldier in a few years ever since her and her husband, Lord Haar, had last been to Nevassa. She had forgotten that she had even been scheduled for a meeting. To Micaiah's left sat the aforementioned Sir Tauroneo, his hair mostly gray now and his face more wrinkled than she had remembered even from the day before, it seemed. The seat to his left was empty, in honor of the fourth and final of the Riders of Daein, Lady Ofelia, off on a scouting mission near Tor Garen. To the left of the empty space sat Fiona, Duchess of Marado, a high-ranking member of the nobility as well as an old fellow soldier who fought alongside Micaiah those seven years ago. The seat at the other end of the table was occupied by Lord Pelleas, in charge of much of the day-to-day doings of the Daein royalty. The group of nobility waited for her to begin.

The meeting went as usual, with Micaiah attempting to grasp the manifold problems plaguing her country and deciding which ones were worth the greater effort. Also, as usual, Pelleas laid out his elaborate plan for Daein's future growth, with encouraging comments from Tauroneo, eager agreements from Edward, and the expected curt nod of Warrick. Two hours had passed before the group lapsed into a short silence, filled only with the sound of eating the food brought out by the servants. Micaiah slowly placed her spoon into the intricately-carved bowl and cleared her throat. The others look expectantly at their queen.

"Sothe tells me there's a growing sentiment against my rule," she said, sitting calmly. Tauroneo looked down as if his lap had suddenly become irresistibly intriguing. Pelleas tugged at his collar and avoided eye contact, while Edward quickly shoved a roast turkey leg into his mouth and began chewing furiously.

"There's no use denying it, I know what's happening in my own country. Supposedly I've failed to live up to Daein's bloody legacy!" she slammed her fist on the table, shaking the spoon inside the bowl. She immediately regretted the outburst of anger and took a deep breath.

"Sothe is right," said Tauroneo, bravely taking on the responsibility of speaking for the council. "I won't deny it. But I'm sure he's told you, it's a minority only. My queen, Daein…your people…they love you! Don't doubt that. I'm saying this as your friend, not just as your knight."

Micaiah's response was cut short by the door to the hall opening. A soldier in thin black armor ran through the hall, his feet echoing against the stone floor. Panting, he saluted Micaiah and reached into his pocket for a folded piece of paper. She could see beads of sweat traveling down the length of his face, pooling into his black beard. He seemed badly shaken.

_Two bleeding stars fell from the bright skies and landed in a dense forest…_

Her stomach lurched. She knew.

"Your majesty…I have…news from Begnion…"

Not this. Not this.

"Speak, sir," said Tauroneo, worry infecting his face as well.

The soldier swallowed. Micaiah noticed how a drop of sweat fell from his beard to the floor.

"Empress…S-Sanaki…has been…murdered…"

At this the council-members burst into varying degrees of disbelief. Jill and Edward began to shake, while Tauroneo and Pelleas shook their heads, unable to process the knowledge.

"When? How?" asked Jill, her voice quivering.

_Two bleeding stars fell from the bright skies and landed in a dense forest…_

"They fell…" Micaiah said, her face staring at the puddle of sweat below the soldier.

The soldier started. "H-how did you know?"

Edward stepped forward to stand beside his queen. "She knows things. Magic."

The soldier swallowed again. The letter was back in his pocket and he fidgeted nervously with it.

"Oh, of course. Also…Lady Sigrun…she was murdered too…"

Micaiah felt the cold horror of death around her, around Tellius. Something was coming, something darker than anything the war-torn world had faced before. Their few years of peace had come to a close at last. War waited on the horizon, anxious to loose his arrows. Her sister's assassination was the first step.

The soldier moved closer, his face twitching as the sweat increased. His hand still rested in his pocket.

"Send word to Begnion, tell them we will send a representative at once," said Pelleas, taking the initiative. The soldier didn't seem to hear him, and took a step forward.

She knew. Even now, she knew. Her eyes met his, defiant, whispering her challenge. Edward's hand reached for his blade. The soldier paused for a moment before his hand burst from his pocket, clutching a dagger.

"For Daein!"

It ended in a second. The soldier's body dropped as his head rolled across the floor. Edward stood in front of his queen, his blade raised high and dripping blood. The knife remained clutched in the dead soldier's hand. Micaiah calmly walked over to the corpse and pried the blade from his fingers. She showed it to the stunned council, gripping the handle tightly.

"Sothe was right."

She shuddered.

It had begun.


End file.
